


relive the pain to make a change

by tryslora



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Erica Reyes, Canonical Character Death, Community: fullmoon_ficlet, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Past Character Death, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 23:43:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4039138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erica was dead, right up until the moment that she walked into Derek’s apartment and said <i>I know what to do, I know how to change everything</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	relive the pain to make a change

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I'm archiving something on time! This was originally written for Prompt #122 - Lurk at fullmoon_ficlet, and I don’t even know. I had this scene in mind, and it sort of wandered from there, and I’m not even sure it’s coherent. I have also learned that it is pretty much impossible to tell a time travel story in 1k. Oops? As always, I do not own the characters nor world of Teen Wolf, I just like to play with them.

“Is that you?” Liam nudges Stiles’s as if he doesn’t _see_. It’s awkward trying to hide behind a tree while looking, but yes, that’s him. His younger self. His own body and soul, standing not so far away.

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “Stay quiet. I’m pretty sure I didn’t see me today, so try not to make any noise that’s going to make me look.” He attempts to unwind what he just said and gives it up for a bad job. “Just channel Derek’s favorite methodology for werewolf surveillance and lurk.”

He follows his own advice; when Liam makes a noise like he’s going to keep talking, Stiles claps a hand over his mouth to shut him up.

It’s the day of his mom’s funeral, and he doesn’t want to miss a thing.

He looks small standing next to his dad, wearing a brand new suit they’d gone out to buy late the night before. He remembers the scent of alcohol on his father’s breath, clinging to his skin and clothes; it had made his head ache with every inhalation. He can see the younger version of Scott across the way, clinging to Melissa, eyes wide and sad as he stares at little Stiles.

It makes Stiles’s heart ache with fresh grief all over again.

He watches silently when they lower the casket into the grave. He sees himself walk up and kneel to throw a lily in, followed by a handful of dirt. Stiles goes to his knees, Liam catching him to yank him back before he can reach out into view.

“We don’t have long,” Liam whispers. “Can you hear the howl?”

Stiles’s hearing isn’t nearly as good as Liam’s, but he when he pays attention the sound is faint in the distance, echoing in his bones. He nods once. “Derek’s coming,” he says, voice rough from a too-tight throat.

Liam offers a hand and Stiles clasps it, letting Liam bring him to his feet. Seeing the funeral was a sidebar, not important to their task aside from one tiny detail. But it was important to Stiles.

#

The pack gathers in the middle of the woods, the scent of smoke still thick in the air after the fire that occurred only days before. Stiles imagines that he can smell the sweet stench of burnt skin; when Derek’s nose wrinkles, Stiles reaches out to let his fingers graze against Derek’s, not quite tangling with him.

There is still tension in Derek’s body, but he glances at Stiles and nods, a low breath sliding out.

“Do we have everything?”

Stiles’s head snaps up, still unused to hearing Erica’s voice. _Erica_ , who should be _dead_. Who _was_ dead, as far as he knew, until she walked into Derek’s apartment and laid out a plan to fix everything. To _change_ everything. _I know_ , she had said. _I know what needs to be done_.

So here they are, on the night of the wolf moon, the entire pack standing around a campfire in the past. They each carry an item of import, some of which came straight from the Hale vault. Derek cradles a medallion and he holds that out first, above the flames.

“We are here in our bleakest moment,” Erica says quietly, her hand covering Derek’s. “We are here in the time where it is coldest, darkest. In the time when the light of the wolf moon is the only thing we have to guide us. And we offer this, our memories and our history. We offer this to make things right.”

The medallion sparks as soon as Derek drops it, disappearing into the flames as they rise abruptly. Stiles follows it with a flower, stolen from his mother’s grave. Each of the pack drops an item, something from their lives or from the pack’s history. Something significant.

Liam is last, a book in his hands that is consumed swiftly by the fire. He steps back and reaches for Stiles, who in turn reaches for Derek and so on around the fire, until the entire pack joins hands.

“Balance,” Stiles says, and he stomps his foot. Across the fire, he sees the grin on Erica’s face, her teeth bright and so human that it hurts his heart to know that _this_ Erica was never bitten.

“Balance,” she shouts, and stomps her foot as well. They do it in turn, setting up an echo and a rhythm between them, until it feels like a heartbeat, thudding through his veins. The heat from the flames licks against his skin, and he realizes how hard it is to breathe, how the smoke swirls around them.

Stiles tries to cry out, but he can’t. He can only hold on and pray when the weight of the world bears them down, and he falls to the ground.

#

Derek’s phone rings and Stiles’s brain stutters awake. He reaches for it, handing it blindly to Derek while they try to untangle themselves on the couch. Stiles grabs for a shirt, as if the phone means someone’s going to see that he’s mostly naked in Derek’s living room. As if that might be a problem.

There’s a soft catch of breath before Derek answers. “Mom?” A slow exhale, then, “Yeah, of course we’re coming. We wouldn’t miss dinner, you know that. Peter and Malia? Oh so… yeah. Yeah. We’ll see you then.”

Derek sets the phone on the table, his eyes wide as he looks at Stiles. “Do you—”

“Remember? Yeah.” Stiles remembers. He remembers everything, every single person who died, every single horrible thing that had ever happened. He remembers _all of it_ , and if one huge thing has already changed, one thing they never expected, he has to wonder what else is different.

He leans in, tugs Derek close and brushes a kiss across his lips. _This_ , at least, is still the same, a low sound as Derek kisses him back. He managed to keep the one good thing he ever had; he can’t wait to find out what of the horrors have changed for the better.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me [on tumblr](http://tryslora.tumblr.com)!


End file.
